


A Romance Re-imagined.

by Curios_Gelatin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Drama, M/M, Psychological, Reimagining, Rewrite, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:04:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curios_Gelatin/pseuds/Curios_Gelatin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For those who want more of the few and far between romantic moments with Fenris in Dragon Age 2, mixed in with a little more drama than originally portrayed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Hawke/Fenris fic. I wasn’t completely satisfied with how easily Fenris cast aside his hatred for mages for Hawke on the basis that ‘he was different’ so I decided to rewrite the romance with a much bumpier ride than the original script. 
> 
> It will be submitted in short segments, with relatively consistent updates throughout the week.

The silence in the room was piercing and thick. Hair prickled. Isabella and Varric looked at each other, uncertain of whether to raise their weapons or lower them.

Hawke attempted to squirm away from the warm blade pressing against his neck, still wet with the blood of a slain mercenary that lay motionless in a pool of his own blood several feet away.

“I should never have trusted you,” Fenris snarled up at him, pressing the steel against Hawke’s neck until the first signs of drawn blood began to form.

Hawke fruitlessly raised his chin, attempting to stem the force of the blade which sent shivering slivers of pain across his skin.

Through gritted teeth he retorted breathlessly, “It was a misfire. Accidents happen. Fenr- hrk–”

Fenris’ eyes blazed with distrust, and blade cut flesh cleanly. There was a roar of anger as Varric lurched at the elf and a gasp of shock as Isabella quickly followed behind and took her stance. Fenris leapt back on his feet nimbly and countered Varric’s lunge, launching the dwarf in a misdirection against the walls of the Hightown square before swooping down to avoid the glide of Isabella’s daggers across the air. The rogue cursed and lunged forward again only to hear Varric cry out from behind.

“Forget him Rivaini– Hawke needs help he’ll bleed out if we try chase him down!”

Isabella, wide eyed, stole a look at Hawke. A stream of blood drenched his neck and flowed freely down to his chest, but Hawke could only numbly slide down the wall he had been pressed against- seemingly transfixed at his own blood pooling on the ground. Isabella snatched a look at Fenris again, who was poised to counter. She cursed and spat at the ground.

“You’d better go before I change my mind,” she snarled as she retracted her claws and tugged off her bandanna.

Fenris did not wait for her to. He surveyed the scene once more-assuring himself they would not follow- and then turned heel.

“Hawke,” Varric pleaded gruffly, “keep your eyes up on me- hey focus, up here okay?”

Isabella hurried to Hawke’s side, bandana in hand. He found it hard to focus, his line of vision becoming blurry and intense lightheadedness took him quick and hard, sending him swaying.

“Keep him steady I’ll try staunch the bleeding,” she muttered, eyes roaming over the pool of blood quickly spreading below them. Varric grabbed him steadily by the shoulders. She grumbled as she worked, “usually I don’t need to save a man whose throat has been cut. Usually I’m the one doing the cutting…”

“Not the time Isabella,” Varric growled, rubbing Hawke’s shoulder. He gurgled and choked. Desperately Varric moved around and kneeled down, making eye contact with Hawke, “listen, we’re not that far from Blondie’s clinic, just stay awake. Stay focused. We’re going to get you there-”

“Var…ric…” Hawke choked out but the words sent him reeling in pain, and he spoke no more, instead roughly grabbing at Varric’s shoulders with unsteady hands. He looked over his shoulder, trying to find him- find Fenris- but he had vanished into the night. He lost his train of though. His shoulders heaved with the urge to speak again.

“Don’t talk. Just walk. Isabella help me get him up…”

Hawke could hear little more. He heard the talking- the reassuring tones- but could not make out the words, could only hear his own dull but fast paced heart beat as his body tried to compensate for the lack of blood. Everything was out-of-focus. The stagger to the clinic could have taken 5 minutes, or five hours, or an eternity, he could not tell the difference. Later, whenever later was, he felt the touch of magic through his being, soothe him but also felt it drain him. Everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

“You can’t be serious. You want to talk to him? After he slit your throat?” Ander’s raged. It had been hours and with the help of magic and herbs, Hawke had recovered quite well. He still felt incredibly weak, and his neck was sore and swollen to say the very least- but it was a step up from death to be sure. At least he was almost sure it was.

“Yes.” He replied simply as he felt the tender skin of his neck. It hurt. He winced.

“No offense Hawke but,” Varric frowned, “talking things out doesn’t really seem like the sane option here. It’s not exactly like we know much about the guy- for all we know he planned this from the beginning. He’s probably gone by now anyway.”

“Then I ought to go find out if he has. And stop him if he hasn’t.” Hawke replied calmly, standing up. Anders stood in his way.

“Absolutely not. Haven’t you learned yet? He tried to kill you because you’re a mage. He’s hateful! He can think of nothing but this foolish and unfounded violence! Because magic, all magic is ‘evil’ to him!” Ander’s scoffed, livid with indignation, then muttered under his breath, looking away, “he’s no better than the bloody templars around here…”

“You can hardly blame him, sweetheart,” Isabella added slowly from some ways away, “being a slave to a Tevinter magister is hardly anyone’s dream life…”

“We are not all Tevinter magisters!” he retorted through grit teeth and clenched fists.

“Well we can run it around in circles for eternity,” Hawke sighed, “arguing the deeper philosophies of mages won’t make Fenris understand us. All he understands right now is that I slammed him with a fistful of arcane lightning when his back was turned.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose-” Ander’s began irritably.

“I don’t think that really matters to him somehow.” Hawke replied lightly, tilting his head. Anders squinted at the deep wound across Hawke’s neck and winced.

“No… I suppose it doesn’t.” he agreed finally. But his expression soon turned terse again, “but I still think talking to him won’t do any good.”

“Gotta agree with Blondie,” Varric reluctantly added.

“Well rest assured I’m aware of everyone’s disapproval, now I’m going to see if I can convince my would-be murderer not to leave town.”

Hawke heard Varric give a heavy sigh as he readied to follow after him.

“Alone.” Hawke added deliberately.

“Did you develop a deathwish while I wasn’t looking?” Varric muttered, sitting upon a nearby crate.

“Come on Varric,”Hawke urged with a low laugh, “valiant heroes sell books”

“Dead heroes don’t!” Varric yelled after him as he left.


	3. Chapter 3

It was almost two weeks before Fenris reappeared in Kirkwall, and a week once more before he confronted Hawke. It was evening, and evenings in Kirkwall were not pleasant. Yellowed, grainy masonry reflected the dying sun with harshness, hot and displeasing to the eyes. Shade thrown by the tall buildings was pitch dark and cooling, but bitterly cold when the wind blew.

In front of his uncle’s shack was a dusty old square, clearly unloved by all but the few aged women who brushed away the day’s dirt with old brooms.

Fenris sat, unaffected by the uncomfortable and worn stone steps or blistering heat. He looked almost uncertain when Hawke found him sitting a little ways from Gamlen’s shack.

He looked up when Hawke stopped in front of the steps. They regarded each other, Hawke seemingly surprised, raising an eyebrow, and Fenris ambivalent.

“I’m… back.” Fenris stated carefully. He seemed awkward- frowning and averting his gaze.

“Welcome back,” Hawke nodded in affirmation and climbed the steps to Fenris’ place. He sat alongside him, planting the basket of groceries he’d been holding between them. He noticed Fenris then quite blatantly ogle at his neck. The wound had healed well, but a jagged scar had formed. He looked away, down at the rough stone.

“I don’t know what to say.” he muttered.

“An apology would be nice.” Hawke replied pointedly. He saw Fenris’ face twist into a grimace.

“That hardly seems adequate.”

“I don’t know. I’d feel better if I knew you regretted it, at least.”

Fenris looked quickly up at Hawke, then away again when their eyes met.

“I think back on it now and I’m not even sure what I…,” he laughed, voice trembling with some desperation, “why did I do that?”

“I should have been more careful,” Hawke offered, “that attack must have hurt, more to you than anyone else. The markings…”

Fenris cut him off shaking his head.

“What I did is not so easily justified. You have been a good ally, Hawke. It’s… hard to put into words. At the time I…” Fenris drifted off, clearly struggling for words. Hawke watched him for a moment, then looked down at the basket. He rustled through it and pulled out a ripe apple, then offered it to Fenris.

The elf noticed and studied it momentarily before accepting it. He bit into it and the sound of crunching filled the square.

“I know you’ve had a difficult life. In fact “difficult” is probably a huge understatement,” Hawke began solemnly, “And I know it’s very hard to trust me because of that life but I wish you would. We can help each other- not just as partners in battle but as friends, Fenris.”

Fenris laughed and coughed a little, choking on the apple.

“You want to be friends with the man who almost killed you?”

“Isn’t that exactly the type of person you should want to be friends with?” Hawke grinned, laughing along.

“I suppose so…”

They snickered together and watched the sun slowly disappear behind buildings. Eventually the laughter died out and they both sat comfortably in the quiet.

“I can’t trust you.” Fenris said into the quiet. Hawke did not respond, only seeming to mull over this. Fenris murmured, “I’d like to, but when I’m around you- not just you, and not just mages- when I’m around anyone, I… My hands twitch. My muscles tense- I catch every movement with this… strange fervour. Nothing escapes me. Words echo hollow in my ears, empty, meaningless.”

He looked no place in particular while he repeated this- and Hawke noticed a sadness in his eyes- a loneliness.

“You say that,” Hawke replied carefully, “but here we are, eating and laughing together.”

Fenris regarded this, then chuckled, “Yes. I suppose we are.”

“Careful. Seems you might like me more than you think you do.” Hawke snickered.

“Then it’s a good thing death didn’t take well with you, yes?” Fenris replied in kind and took another apple from the basket. He leapt to his feet lightly.

“Perhaps I’ll come back tomorrow.” Fenris gave a half smile as he walked back through  the square.

“Perhaps I’ll be here.” Hawke called as he left, making his way up the stairs.

He was greeted by rather cynical looking Carver at the front door. Hawke debated internally for a moment, then shook his head and attempted to pass around him.

“You’re mad.” Carver stated as Hawke passed him.

“It’s a burden I bear for being so graced otherwise.” Hawke gave a great dramatic sigh.


End file.
